


Doing What It Takes

by AliceInKinkland



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, Humiliation, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Predicament Bondage, enough trash to make a whole new Trash Planet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 12:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13100241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceInKinkland/pseuds/AliceInKinkland
Summary: Everything Loki had heard and everything he could guess about the Grandmaster suggested that he was not at all about second chances. So if this was his only shot, he was going to take it, even if he was starting from a less-than-ideal position.





	Doing What It Takes

**Author's Note:**

> the first line of my rough notes for this is “god fucking dammit I’m really doing this aren’t I” and that is...still my Big Mood as I’m posting it

Loki’s mistake, he sometimes thought afterwards, was that he’d jumped into things too fast. He should have waited longer, strategized more, between the moment he scrambled off that garbage heap and the moment he conned his way onto the guest list of one of the Grandmaster’s parties. 

Other times, he thought it wouldn’t have mattered; things would have gone the way they did, or worse, regardless. And really, it hadn’t been all bad, in the end.

“Well that’s just...I mean, that’s  _ fascinating, _ ” said the Grandmaster, leaning forward in his seat. Loki was standing, holding a canapé made of some sort of many-limbed sea creature, affecting the kind of casual-not-casual position of someone in the middle of telling several overlapping lies at once. 

The Grandmaster continued, “Not the actual content of that cockmamie story, of course,” and a cold, unshakeable dread settled in Loki’s stomach before he’d even realized it. “Because honestly! Insult my intelligence much? But the fact that you decided to, ah, crash my party, and then lie through your teeth—it’s daring, I’ll give you that.” Two guards stepped forward out of the shadows, but the Grandmaster waved them back, looking Loki up and down. “No, don’t kill him yet. Let’s see if we can’t turn this whole thing around, hmm? I’m all about second chances.”

Everything Loki had heard and everything he could guess about the Grandmaster suggested that he was not at all about second chances. Loki swallowed. Should he run? If he did, he doubted he’d be getting any more chances after that—not to live in relative comfort while he was on this strange planet, and definitely not to find a way off it. And the Grandmaster did seem willing to talk. Perhaps he’d just have to play a few more cards than he’d been planning to.

“Right,” he said, bowing slightly. “I’ve been less than honest. The truth is, my name is Loki—” 

“Don’t bother,” said the Grandmaster. His smile had shifted into more of a leer, eyes roaming Loki’s body. “I mean, that’s a start, sure. But at this point, what I need from you, if I’m being honest...I’m going to need a bigger show of trust than that.”

“What did you have in mind?” said Loki, keeping his voice neutral. They were near the centre of the room, the party continuing all around them, but Loki had the unpleasant sensation of being backed into a corner.

The Grandmaster frowned. “If you’re not keeping up, I’m not sure this is going to work out.”

Ah. OK. It wasn’t as though Loki had thought sex was off the table, exactly, going into this, although when he’d considered that particular backup plan he’d imagined more candlelit seduction and much less of a sense of dancing for his life. Still, this was something he could work with. It should even be an enjoyable experience. He looked the Grandmaster in the eyes and licked his lips. “Oh, I’m pretty good at keeping up.”

The Grandmaster considered him for a long moment, leaning back and crossing his legs. His gaze made Loki feel exposed in a way that he suspected would be a lot more fun under different circumstances.

“Glad—very glad to hear it. Turn around,” said the Grandmaster, spinning his finger in the air to demonstrate. Loki complied, sneaking quick glances at the room they were in as he did so. The party was still in full swing—people talked and laughed and groped each other in corners and sipped brightly-coloured drinks supplied by servers wearing more jewelry than actual clothing—although Loki had the distinct impression that the crowd’s collective gaze was turned away from his little scene with the Grandmaster too purposefully for it to be simply due to the natural flow of conversation. Good survival instincts, all of them, on this hardscrabble planet.

“Yes,” said the Grandmaster when Loki was facing him once again. “I think this one definitely deserves a second chance, don’t you?” He seemed to be speaking to no one in particular. Turning back to Loki, he said, “Now I’d love to get to know you better right now, but I have, ah, prior engagements.” He gestured at the activity in the room. “And you truly look delicious standing here, you really do, you made the effort to fit the night’s aesthetic and I appreciate that, but I think—I’m sure you’ll understand—I think it would be best to keep you contained until I can give you my full attention. We can both agree you forfeited this round, no? How does that sound?”

That sounded not at all how Loki had been hoping this night would go, but he nodded and allowed himself to be led away by one of the guards. He turned back to see if the Grandmaster was still watching him, but his attention was already elsewhere. 

Loki walked as slowly as he dared, listening in on conversations as he went. The guests were preoccupied with some big fight happening later that week, placing bets and discussing past rounds—and deaths—excitedly. As he approached the door, one of the servers dropped a tray of drinks, and the next moment she was writhing on the floor in the resultant mess of spilled cocktails and broken glass, evidently having been shocked, as everyone else once again deliberately turned away from the scene.

Both good reminders that things could be a lot worse. Loki resolved to bide his time and play along for now.

* * *

Loki wasn’t sure if it was early the next morning or late the following afternoon by the time the Grandmaster sent for him, which was—odd. He wondered if the slipperiness of the intervening hours was some property of Sakaar, or simply the result of being locked in a room that was both not a prison and clearly a prison, alone with his thoughts for however much time it had been. He nibbled on some assorted food that seemed more like endless hors d’oeuvres than an actual meal, and followed the guard’s instructions to shower and change into an almost-sheer robe the same shade of blue as the Grandmaster’s makeup, and then he sat, and paced, and slept fitfully and unsatisfyingly. He knew exactly how he was being played, being made to wait like this, but he could feel himself being played nonetheless, restlessness growing the longer he was denied attention.

Finally, he was brought to the Grandmaster’s hangar—and wasn’t that a useful access code to know—and led past several impressive vehicles that looked designed for surface travel to one which was clearly a small rocket ship. Loki wondered if the intention was to intimidate him with the absurd extravagance of a being who took leisure rides out to space to try out a new sex partner. Then, he wondered if the intention was to intimidate him with a good old-fashioned kidnapping. 

Either way, he reflected, he was getting on the ship.

“So glad you could make it,” said the Grandmaster as Loki entered. The ship’s cabin was circular, with huge curved windows and a variety of furniture: couches and chairs, low tables and footrests, a bar off to one corner. Loki figured he should have expected the various people the room contained as well—someone behind the bar, someone serving the Grandmaster unfamiliar-looking fruits off a platter, and two others standing off to one side—and berated himself for his moment of shock, hoping it hadn’t shown on his face.

“I just couldn’t miss it,” said Loki.

The Grandmaster laughed and beckoned for Loki to join him on one of the couches, and Loki sat just as the ship began to move. “Excellent! That’s what I like to hear,” said the Grandmaster, slapping Loki’s thigh and then conspicuously leaving his palm in place. “I’m hoping we can get off to a better start today than we did last night, just put all that ugliness behind us—although before we do, let me just say that you sure are lucky you’re so...lucky you caught my eye. If you hadn’t, and you’d pulled that stunt, well—” he made a kind of  _ splat  _ noise with his mouth, and shrugged—“I’ve got this great little contraption,  _ love  _ to show it to you sometime, you just tap someone, just like this—” here he tapped Loki’s nose—“and then goo! That’s all that’s left of them!”

The ship had abandoned the mountains of trash forming the surface of Sakaar and pushed past the cloud cover, accelerating upwards out of the atmosphere, and Loki was suddenly even more aware than he had been up to this point of how few escape options were available when you were stuck in the middle of space with an unpredictable tyrant. Still, the Grandmaster’s palm was warm on Loki’s thigh, and Loki could feel himself hardening in response, so there were definitely worse places he could be right now. Like wherever Thor was, probably, he reflected, before pushing that thought right back down from wherever it had bubbled up.

“That sounds—” said Loki, but the Grandmaster interrupted him, digging his nails into Loki’s thigh.

“How do you feel about bondage?”

Loki felt a great deal of contradictory and circumstance-specific things about bondage, but before he could distill that into a mostly-honest, mostly-agreeable soundbite, the Grandmaster reached around to somewhere behind him and pulled out a pair of wrist cuffs made of some kind of stiff, shiny material, connected with a sturdy-looking gold chain. Then he grabbed the back of Loki’s neck with the hand that had previously been pressed to his thigh, and drew Loki in for a kiss. 

The Grandmaster’s tongue slid between Loki’s lips and Loki opened his mouth to allow access. He pressed his lips firmly against the Grandmaster’s and let himself sink into the kiss, and felt his confidence increasing once again. The Grandmaster liked him, which could only be a good thing. 

The Grandmaster pulled back, and Loki ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Now strip,” said the Grandmaster, and Loki stood and complied. His arousal was still mixed with a good deal of unease, swirling around in his gut, but he did his best to focus on the excitement for now, and by the time he had removed the robe—and watched the Grandmaster throw it in the face of the person who had been serving the fruit, who began folding it carefully—Loki was mostly hard. The Grandmaster looked down at his cock and grinned.

“Oh, I’ve just been waiting to unwrap you! Although I suppose you just, ah, unwrapped yourself, really. Let’s do—yes, hands in the front, but I’ll have you—hold them out, that’s right—” he slipped the cuffs on and secured them with a fingerprint lock—“now up behind your head, palms on the back of your neck. Wonderful! Let’s celebrate with one of those—those blue drinks I was having yesterday, with the umbrellas.” He held out his hand, and Loki watched as the bartender deftly prepared some kind of complicated cocktail and the server brought it over. The Grandmaster didn’t spare either of them a glance, his eyes never leaving Loki’s body.

Once the drink was in the Grandmaster’s hand, he took a long sip, then moved behind Loki, pressing up against him and holding the glass out to Loki’s mouth. Loki parted his lips. The drink was more sour than he had expected, and he allowed the Grandmaster to fill his mouth with it as the Grandmaster’s hands began roaming down his chest, fingers lightly running across his hips, cock pressing more and more firmly at Loki’s ass.

They were well and truly in space now, and Loki couldn’t help but stare out at the vast black of the galaxy, the faint stars, planets far in the distance. 

“Do you like it?” said the Grandmaster, and Loki thought he was talking about the cocktail, until he continued, “There’s absolutely nothing like having an orgasm while staring out at the stars. That’s why I have so many of my parties out here. You get so bored of orgy locations after a few millennia, but I honestly—space is always an absolute treat.”

The Grandmaster drained the rest of the glass, then held it out until someone took it away. He slid his hand down until it was wrapped ever so loosely around Loki’s cock, and Loki thrust his hips into the touch, but the Grandmaster moved the hand away.

“So eager! Wow, there’s just really nothing subtle about you, is there? First you’ve got all these machinations, that grand entrance—so cute, by the way—and now you’re just really, ah, raring to go. It’s nice, absolutely, it’s charming. But if you know what’s good for you, you’ll slow things down a bit. Just some friendly advice.”

The tone was light, but Loki heard the threat underneath, not to mention the mockery. “Don’t I get a say in that?” he said, aiming for flirtatious but somewhat missing the mark in his irritation.

“Hmm, not really,” said the Grandmaster, slipping a finger into Loki’s mouth. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I want everyone to have a good—to have the  _ best _ time, ideally. But I’m gonna be honest with you, when it comes down to it I’m used to getting what I want, and that’s...I’m pretty committed to that. It’s important to me. I’m sure you understand.”

Loki felt a bolt of anxiety in his gut, threatening to overtake his arousal, as the realization of just how vulnerable he was washed over him once again. But then the Grandmaster’s hand was back on his cock, and he focused on keeping his hips still, his breathing even, and reflected that really, the Grandmaster’s ominous speech was only a problem if Loki wanted to refuse him, which he wasn’t planning on doing anyway.

“Now let’s get that mouth of yours around my cock, how—how about that?” said the Grandmaster, moving to sit back on the couch. He pulled back his robes and slipped out of his trousers, and Loki sank to his knees, thinking that the Grandmaster’s habit of phrasing orders as questions where  _ yes _ was clearly the only acceptable answer added a whole other unnerving layer to this experience.

He bent his head, and took the tip of the Grandmaster’s cock into his mouth, licking pre-cum off with his tongue. He lapped gently for a moment, relieved at how easily that came to him, and then moved to take more of the Grandmaster’s length into his mouth. The Grandmaster was silent for one long, blessed moment, and Loki sucked him off earnestly, attempting to quell his lingering fear with each even dip of his head. He used all his technique, hollowing out his cheeks and pressing his lips together, determined to dazzle the Grandmaster, show him what he could do.

“OK, enough with the warm up,” said the Grandmaster. “This is all very sweet, but when I said to slow down, I was talking about you, not me. Let’s get—let’s pick things up here. Impress me. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Because you know how to keep up?”

Loki had the brief, satisfying image of what it would feel like to bite down hard on the Grandmaster’s tender flesh, but instead he let the Grandmaster’s cock fall from his lips with a pop. Magic swirling within him, he made to rise to his feet. This wasn’t worth it, this level of debasement. Fucking one’s way to the top was one thing, but this—

He fell backwards mid-thought, and felt his magic dissipating like ice in warm water. Whatever the Grandmaster had done had knocked the wind out of him, and he lay there panting for a moment, trying to catch his breath. The Grandmaster had barely moved; he was still lounged on the couch, half-undressed, licking his bottom lip.

“Gosh,” said the Grandmaster, “I thought you could take—it was all in good fun, that’s what I’m about, remember? But if this isn’t working out—and these things happen, incompatibilities, always disappointing though, especially when I had such high hopes—we’ll just head right on back to Sakaar, and figure out, ah, what to do with you there.”

Loki weighed his options—fight, and run a good risk of losing. Demand they turn the ship around, and face whatever horrors awaited him back on the ground. The Grandmaster ran his blue-painted toes down Loki’s calf. The touch was strangely soothing. 

“You were being so good, too,” the Grandmaster said wistfully. “And you looked so pretty with my cock in your mouth. I just want to see how pretty you are with my cock all the way down your throat, is that really—is that so much to ask? For you to be good for me?”

Loki could feel himself flushing at the Grandmaster’s words. Maybe now that he could say he fought back and failed, he could just let it happen, secure in the knowledge that he’d tried. That none of this would be his fault, even—especially—if he enjoyed it. That he’d just have been doing what he had to do, looking out for number one.

“No,” said Loki, making a decision, and at the Grandmaster’s look of shock, he clarified, “No, that’s not too much to ask.”

“Right answer!” said the Grandmaster, beaming. “Ding ding ding, we have a winner! Now just come back here, that’s right. I’ll set the pace this time, how about that, make it easy for you?”

Loki’s cheeks burned, but he simply nodded, and kneeled before the Grandmaster once again. This time, the Grandmaster guided Loki’s head forward and down, gripping a fistful of Loki’s hair, until Loki’s lips were once again pressed around the Grandmaster’s cock. Then, scalp burning, Loki felt his head guided further forward, his mouth filled, pressure at the back of his throat.

“What did I tell you? Pretty, so pretty,” the Grandmaster crooned as he forced himself down Loki’s throat. He held Loki’s head in place for a long moment, and Loki did his best to hold still, barely thinking about his limited oxygen in his effort to keep from gagging. He could feel his eyes watering as the Grandmaster began fucking his throat in earnest, his scalp burning, arms starting to go stiff in their cuffed position.

The Grandmaster set a quick rhythm, and Loki soon found that everything else melted away as he focused on his task, on keeping his lips tight, his throat still. He could feel saliva dripping out of the corners of his mouth, and hear the wet muffled sounds of the Grandmaster’s cock using him. He was vaguely aware of his own cock, rock-hard against his belly, but he barely spared it a thought. His own pleasure would come later.

Well, he hoped it would.

The Grandmaster’s cock twitched, and with one last thrust, he came, holding Loki’s head steady and rocking slightly as he rode out his orgasm. Loki felt warmth filling his mouth and dribbling down his chin. He swallowed without thinking, licking his lips as the Grandmaster pulled back.

The Grandmaster’s hand in Loki’s hair turned softer, less brutal, guiding Loki to rest his cheek on the Grandmaster’s inner thigh. With his other hand, the Grandmaster lifted Loki’s chin until Loki was looking into the Grandmaster’s eyes.

“Mmm,” said the Grandmaster. “That was a nice little warm up, don’t you think? Despite your, ah, reluctance? It sure got you pretty—got you hot and bothered in the end, didn’t it?”

There didn’t seem to be any use in denying that, so Loki simply nodded. 

“Ask me if you can touch yourself,” said the Grandmaster. One of his hands reached behind him, the same place he had gotten the cuffs from, and Loki saw a flash of gold before the Grandmaster hid whatever it was he was holding behind his back.

Loki wasn’t at all sure what the Grandmaster’s game was now, but it wasn’t as though he had any choice but to play along. As soon as he felt that, gave in to the thought, it was easy enough—freeing, even—to say, “May I touch myself?” His jaw ached slightly as he spoke.

“Ooh, has anyone ever told you how good you look when you’re following orders? Just—exquisite. Oh, and, uh, no, you can’t touch yourself yet. Soon, though! Soon. But I’ve got something for you first. Come here, just kneel—yes, exactly.”

Loki rose to his feet as smoothly as he could with stiff legs and arms still held obediently behind his neck. He knelt on the couch, and the Grandmaster brought his hand out from behind his back to reveal two small golden clamps connected by a chain. Loki swallowed. 

“Bring your hands back down in front of you,” the Grandmaster said, and Loki winced as he complied. The Grandmaster beamed. “A little sore, huh? Perfect. It’s a good look for you, sweetcakes.” He was pinching Loki’s nipples, and the attention drove Loki’s arousal even higher, until it was all he could do not to reach down and take his cock into his hand. 

The Grandmaster attached a clamp to Loki’s left nipple, and Loki hissed as he felt it tighten around the sensitive flesh. The Grandmaster then slipped that chain around the one which connected Loki’s cuffs before attaching the second clamp. If Loki moved his hands too far from the centre of his chest, it would pull on the clamps. He could see where this was going. The thought filled him with arousal and trepidation in equal measure.

“Now ask again,” said the Grandmaster. Yes, Loki could see exactly where this was going.

“May I touch myself?” It was harder to say the second time around. It sounded too much like a routine that Loki was falling into. 

“Go for it,” the Grandmaster said, a little too magnanimously, Loki thought, given the circumstances. “Show me how you like to...how you get yourself off, that’s right, just, ah, knock yourself out.”

Loki expected the pull on his nipples as he lowered his bound hands to his cock, but he still felt his breath catching as the pain intensified. He found that with some maneuvering, however, he could lower one hand and not the other, lessening the tug. He gripped his cock, and couldn’t hold back a moan at the much-needed contact, even as pain shot through his nipples at each movement.

The Grandmaster watched him for a moment, lips parted, cock impressively beginning to harden once again, before he shook his head. “No, no, what did I—what did I say about trust? Honesty?”

Loki wasn’t entirely sure what the Grandmaster had said about either of those things, but he could tell he was expected to answer. “They’re important to you,” he ventured, unsure if he should continue his movements or not. He settled for a soft, tentative rhythm, even lighter than before.

“Mmm, but more importantly, with you, here and now—I need a show of trust! Remember? Isn’t that was this is? You, me, getting on ah, a deeper level with each other?”

“Yes, of course,” Loki managed. 

“So? Is this how you get yourself off, usually? These sweet, little—I mean, look at you! You’re barely moving.”

“Usually I’m not hurting myself at the same time,” said Loki, not bothering to hide his frustration.

“You’re really very funny, that’s, ah, one of the reasons I like you, I think,” said the Grandmaster. “Let’s just try this again. Show me how you get off. As if the clamps were just—poof! Gone.”

Loki grimaced, but complied, wrapping his hand around his cock and jerking off to a more habitual rhythm. His nipples throbbed, but the touch of his hand was welcome enough that the pain did not overtake the pleasure, and he found himself feeling a bizarre gratitude that the Grandmaster was allowing him to touch himself like this. He flushed at the thought, moving his hand more forcefully in frustration at how easily he could sink into this kind of treatment, and trying to block out his awareness of the other people in the room who were witnessing it all.

“Much better,” said the Grandmaster. “You know, I’m just so glad you’re—glad you fell into my lap, so to speak. You’ll tell me when you’re getting close, won’t you?”

Loki nodded. He was fairly close already, jerking his hips in time to the movements of his hand. He wondered if it would be acceptable to ask for lube—the friction was beginning to be another source of pain—but decided not to risk it. 

“I’m going to—” Loki began after a moment, then realized his error when he saw the amusement on the Grandmaster’s face.

“Come?” said the Grandmaster. “You’re going to come? Is that—honestly, I’m not even—I thought you’d got the basics of this game by now! Tell me you’re smarter than that, I really—I really think you’re smarter than that.”

“I meant I was close,” said Loki.

“Sure, but you said you were going to come,” the Grandmaster singsonged. His tone grated on Loki’s nerves. “Which is...in other circumstances, I might be a little upset, you know, you undermining my authority—but that’s just so funny! That you think you get to make a decision like that. Isn’t it funny?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Isn’t it funny?” the Grandmaster said, more pointedly this time.

“Y-yes,” Loki stammered. He couldn’t hold the Grandmaster’s gaze.

“Glad we agree. So you’re close, are you? Perfect, that’s how I want you to stay. Right there on the, ah, edge.”

Loki nodded, and the Grandmaster patted his thigh in patronizing encouragement. Loki really was close now, the movements of his hips becoming more erratic as his arousal built to a fever pitch. He wasn’t sure how long he could stay like this, and he had the ridiculous thought that this wasn’t  _ fair _ , like some kind of petulant child. He moaned, surprised by the need evident in his voice.

The Grandmaster pulled out a bottle of lube, and poured some onto his fingers. “Lie back,” he instructed, and Loki did his best to minimize the tug of the clamps as he moved from kneeling to lying down on the couch. The distraction mercifully pulled him back from the very brink of orgasm, although as he continued to touch himself, he wondered just how much longer he could last.

The Grandmaster spread Loki’s thighs with his dry hand, and pressed one lube-covered finger to Loki’s hole. He was really quite good at this, Loki reflected, as he felt himself being opened up, slowly and smoothly. He rocked back into the sensation, and the Grandmaster pressed in a second finger, then a third, spreading lube liberally over his hands, and even mercifully pouring a bit onto Loki’s cock, which made Loki gasp in sudden relief.

“So tight,” said the Grandmaster. “It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it?”

Loki nodded, his muscles tensing with the effort of stopping himself from coming. He did his best to relax as the Grandmaster’s fingers continued to work their way inside him.

“That makes me so...disappointed. With—just with the universe in general. You were so clearly made for this! Someone should have been giving it to you.”

Loki thought he was made for significantly more consequential things, but that was not a train of thought he felt like diving into at that precise moment. 

The Grandmaster removed his fingers and shifted on top of Loki, lining his cock up with Loki’s entrance. He sheathed himself in Loki’s ass in one single thrust, and Loki gasped at the sudden intrusion. The dual sensation of the Grandmaster’s cock filling him and his own hand still obediently jerking himself off made him feel like a live wire, an explosion waiting to happen. 

The Grandmaster’s fingers dug into Loki’s hips as he fucked him, and Loki found he could barely process the added sensation. This was too much, all of it at once, and Loki felt as though he was scrambling for balance on the edge of a cliff.

“I bet you want to come, hmm?” said the Grandmaster. He looked almost childishly delighted. He rolled his hips, his cock brushing Loki at just the right angle, and Loki took a minute to form the words.

“Yes. Please.” Loki realized he was writhing, his movements wild, his body barely controllable. 

“Good, very good. I just have to come first, OK? Is that—are we cool here?”

Loki felt a dampness at the corner of his eyes, but he nodded, biting his lip in concentration as he clawed his way frantically back from his impending orgasm. 

The Grandmaster, however, did not actually wait for Loki’s response or acknowledge it in any way. He simply drove into him, increasing the speed and intensity of his thrusts. Loki could feel his hand around his cock growing more and more erratic in its movements, and just when he thought he would fail, that he couldn’t possibly hold out any longer, the Grandmaster came with a groan.

The Grandmaster stilled, his cock still buried inside Loki, and Loki whimpered, a high-pitched noise he hadn’t heard himself make in quite some time. Then, the Grandmaster pulled out, agonizingly slow. He placed his hands on Loki’s chest, dancing around his no-doubt bruising nipples with a feather-light touch that felt utterly overwhelming.

“Come for me,” said the Grandmaster, and removed the clamps just as Loki felt his orgasm overtake him. He screamed through clenched teeth at the combined sensation, the burn in his nipples and the unbearably sweet release in his cock. He spilled over his stomach and his still-bound hands. His legs twitched with the force of it, his back arching, his head lolling backwards, until finally his body went limp and he lay panting, exhausted, on the couch.

Outside the ship, Loki could still see the vastness of space, hard and indifferent to what had just transpired here in this tiny vessel, this little speck of strange decadence floating idley, absurdly, above Sakaar. Loki could feel cum drying on his stomach, leaking out of him, could still taste it faintly on his tongue. The Grandmaster stroked his cheek, and he flinched. 

“Shh, it’s only me,” said the Grandmaster. Loki did not find that comforting, exactly, but he also found it easy, so easy, to lean into the touch. 

The Grandmaster smiled down at him, playing with his hair. “You’re a lot of fun,” he said. “Isn’t that just lucky for both of us?”


End file.
